Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
My moans rise, trembling, and I bite my lip, trying to muffle them, thinking of Jason down the hall, but it’s hard, so hard, with Max’s mouth on me, his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady.
“Shhhhh,” he warns, his voice vibrating against me.
My hand flies up to my mouth, stifling the cry as he sucks harder, his tongue flicking fast, driving me higher. The pleasure coils, tight, searing, and I shatter, my orgasm crashing through me, my body jerking helplessly. But he doesn’t stop, licking me through the aftershocks, his mouth gentle, soothing, drinking me in until I’m spent, panting, my limbs heavy, liquid.
Only then does he rise. His lips are glistening, his eyes dark with need. I reach for him, and pull him down on me, needing his weight, his warmth. His cock is hard, pulsing, and I stroke him, feeling him throb in my hand. I guide him to me, my legs parting, inviting, and he enters me. The stretch is exquisite, filling me completely, and he swears.
“Fuck!” The sound is raw and primal.
His thrusts are gentle, deliberate, each one a sweet, deep press that sparks pleasure through every nerve. My hands roam his back, nails grazing his skin, feeling the tension in his muscles, the sweat slicking him.
His rhythm shifts, deeper, each thrust full of passion, his hips grinding, drawing out every sensation. I open my mouth to cry out, and he kisses me, his lips swallowing my cry. I taste myself on his tongue. His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and his eyes hold mine, blue and tempestuous, filled with an emotion so fierce it breaks me.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice rough, trembling.
I nod, tears pricking my eyes, my heart too full to speak.
The thought hits me, sudden, reckless. I haven’t taken my birth control pill today. I could skip it, let this moment, let this love take root, a piece of Max to carry forever. The idea is wild, dangerous, but I’ve considered it and I’m ready for it. A child with his eyes, his heart, to love even when this stolen interlude ends. I shut my eyes, letting the thought settle, a quiet decision that feels like a vow.
Yes. That’s it. I will pray for a child.
My body arches, meeting his thrusts, and the pleasure builds again, a slow, burning wave. His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit, stroking soft, matching his rhythm, and I’m trembling.
I gasp, voice breaking, my hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring me to him. He thrusts deeper, harder, his cock pulsing, filling me with his seed. My muscles tighten around his cock. It is both pleasure and love.
Perhaps it will be enough to make a child.
My eyes stay shut, but tears slip free. Not from sadness but from the perfection of this moment. The heaven of his body inside mine, his love wrapping around me, his seed deep in my womb.
The pleasure suddenly and unexpectedly crests again, a searing wave, and I climax for a second time. My body quivering, my mouth pressed hard against his neck to keep quiet.
We stay tangled together, his face buried in my hair, our chests heaving. His arms tighten around me, fierce and protective, and I cling to him. The room is quiet, the moonlight silvering his skin.
This must be what heaven is, nothing but pure love.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
MAX
Sara comes home today.
I awaken sprawled beside Amelia. She is still asleep, her face in the shadows even as the first light of dawn creeps through her drapes. My arm is curved over her waist, and her warmth seeps into my skin like a lifeline. Her fair hair is fanned across the pillow, and her breaths are slow, even… her lips parted.
And I can’t stop staring.
Last night plays on a loop in my head. Hours of making love, desperate, endless, my hands mapping every curve of her body, her moans soft and raw, her eyes locked on mine as we moved together, slow, then frantic, like we could outrun the morning. I exhausted her, pushed her to the edge and beyond, because I knew—knew it was our last night.
Sara’s coming home today, and this, this heaven we’ve stolen, is about to shatter.
My heart pounds, a dull, relentless thud, and I shift closer, pressing my lips to her shoulder, tasting her skin. She stirs and makes a soft mewling sound in her throat, but doesn’t wake, and I’m glad for it.
I need these moments to hold her, to memorize the weight of her against me, the lavender scent of her hair, the way her body fits mine like it was made for me.
My hand lightly slides down her hip, fingers tracing the smooth curve, and immediately I’m hard and aching for her, a need that never quits, even now, when dread sits heavy in my gut.